


The Rain's Tears

by siba



Series: Elements [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siba/pseuds/siba
Summary: The former bandit, Dead-Eye, has been off of the grid for several years. Having been presumed dead for years now, nearly everyone has forgotten about the old bandit. The only evidence that remains, is Jesse McCree, who now owns a small convenience store. Everything is fine, work is easy enough and his worker Genji is funny enough, until a mysterious stranger begins to appear and change how Jesse sees parts of his past and parts of his present.





	1. Arashi

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll! 
> 
> I'm super excited to present this as the first of many parts, I wrote it for a Uni English class a while ago with Mchanzo in mind and now I'd like to share! It's been a long time since I have written fanfiction so bear with me! I hope to release weekly updates of several pages. 
> 
> If you'd like to see more of my poetry and stories, please feel free to follow me on Tumblr under Sibatrash!

He was not entirely sure where he heard that rain was a sign for a good omen because at this point, Jesse would call bullshit on the matter. That particular morning had been nothing but a series of problems. It started with no alarm, a dog shit in the hallway, a dead coffee maker in the kitchen, and a Chihuahua who made a nest on clean clothing. Topping it all off was a lack of umbrella during the brief walk from his front doorway to his truck, which resulted in a soaked shirt and a rather uncomfortable drip of water from his mop of brown hair atop his head. As he drove down what had once been dusted roadways, warm country music drifted in through his speakers. The song, while he couldn’t put a name on who sang it, reminded him of older times; when he wasn’t such an old-man. Although by the standards of many of his employees, thirty-eight was far from old. But they didn’t know him, at least not the Jesse McCree that once existed in whispered fables, a myth of the desert, the bandit without a face, a ghost in the night. The infamous Dead Eye had once been the most feared bandit in the South West region, the scorn of both the law-men and the crooks who dared roamed the deadlands.  
Then again, those years had long since passed. That same Jesse McCree was now the owner of a small convenience store on the third exit off of route eighty nine. The bandit who once ruled the deadlands was rumored to be dead and rotting six feet under and in his place was the man running from his truck to the front entrance of ‘El Mercadito’, the smallest and most reasonably priced convenience store in the next half-a-day’s drive. The door came unlocked after three death threats and two incorrect key attempts, allowing for the soaked cowboy to step inside of his fine establishment. Everything from his leather hat to his matching leather boots were soaked. The once vibrant red of his shirt now resembled stained blood, sticking the fabric to his arms and chest. Water droplets marked his path as he made his way behind the register and remained through the morning as Jesse went about his monotonous routine.

  
His set routine was both a comfort and distraction from the uncomfortable sensation of damp clothing. It kept his mind off of the constant drip of water down his neck until the chime of the front door alerted him to someone’s presence. “Morning boss.” The kid who walked into the shop was no older than seventeen, a scrawny beanpole of a teen who sauntered in with the grace of a drunken horse. “Hey kid.” Jesse says from behind the counter where he was tying his hair back. His first glance at the wet mop of green hair atop of Genji’s hair made him snort, rolling his eyes at the sight of the young teen completely drenched from the waist up.  
“Get caught in the rain?” Jesse asks, earning a chuckle from Genji, “Heh- ‘fraid so.” He runs a hand through his hair, not seeming to care that it did nothing to calm his mess.

“I had to leave the car at the airport. Brother is returning from a business trip.” Genji slides behind the counter, throwing down his school bag before taking his usual seat beside Jesse.

“Y’know kid, you’ve been working here for how long? How come I ain’t met this brother of yours?” The older man didn’t look up from where he was quietly counting the cash from the register.

  
“Approximately six months.” Genji continues to separate the coins on the counter as he speaks, “- just around the same time you last shaved, boss.”  
“I could fire you for that, kid.” They both knew Jesse would never, he enjoyed the teen’s presence far too much. “You wouldn’t.”

  
For a while, the only sounds in the store was the scrape of coins against the counter as Aki sorted them into category. The rain created a steady rhythm against the tin roof and allowed for a comfortable silence to settle between the two men as they went about their daily tasks. Jesse handled the finances and audits, Genji handled maintenance and the presentation of the store through the morning as customers went about their shopping and casual conversation with their beloved convenience store owner.

  
It was an average day of gossip; Mrs. Dillon was pregnant yet again, young Peter was sick with the flu, Mr. Svec was out of rehab, and Ms. Hughes claimed she had a new tenant in her luxury apartments in the next town over despite outrageous prices. Genji also handled his own gossip between the teens who stopped in for snacks, but for the most part the two of them kept busy during the day with nothing particularly eventful.  
Jesse sits behind the counter, cigarette in one hand and smartphone in the other. The soft tap of his thumb against the phone screen was soothing, but it was the sweet burn of nicotine that kept him awake in the dull hours of the afternoon. Rain tapped against the tin roof, the occasional rumble of thunder would ripple through the clouds and join the melody of rain in a brief solo. The combination of the comforting warmth of nicotine in the back of his throat and the song of the rain on the roof lulled the scruffy man into a dreamless sleep. It was a brief moment of serenity, one in which the clamor of his mind was silenced and his conscience was sedated to allow him some rest. Since his days on the run, moments of complete relaxation were few and hard to come by.

  
His moment of sleep was brought to an end not by his own volition. Rather, Jesse was woken by an item placed against the counter, just beside his head. It was close enough that he could smell the tea leaves, hidden in the carefully decorated can that it had come in.

“What can I do for ‘ya?” He asks as he raises his head from where it had been resting against the counter. If asked whom he had been expecting to be standing before him, Jesse would have guessed Mr. Collins, the only old man he knew to drink tea. Rather, standing before him was a face he had never seen before. The man standing on the other side of the counter was shorter, with a sharp jawline that would have been framed by silky black hair, had the man not had it tied back at the nape of his neck. Almond eyes glared at him below furrowed eyebrows. The slightest twitch of his lips into a downward scowl was enough of an excuse for Jesse to justify staring at soft pink lips, framed by a carefully trimmed black beard, one barely hinted with silver.

  
It was a startling revelation to Jesse when he realized that he didn’t mind that sharp glare directed his way. “Tea.” The man says simply, pushing the ornately decorated tin can forward and closer to where Jesse’s arm was resting against the wood.

“Sure, you got it-” Although his reply came several seconds later than he intended, Jesse’s mind was racing a mile a minute. There must have been some sort of logical reason as to why he could not seem to keep his eyes off of this man, but for the time being he didn’t want to worry about it. Instead he focused on counting out the correct change and getting a plastic bag from underneath the counter for the can of tea.

  
“Say, we don’t got’ta lot of strangers ‘round the area-” He says from where he was digging under the counter for a plastic bag, “..you new?” Jesse finally pops up from where his head was shoved under the counter to realize that the man had disappeared without another word nor his change.

  
“What a fuckin’-...” He mumbles while shoving the plastic bag below the counter once more before he moves to take one last drag from his dying cigarette. The flame of curiosity is crushed alongside the last of his cigarette and tossed aside before resuming work for the rest of the afternoon.

  
The hours dragged on as the rain came down. When closing time finally came around, Jesse swore that his truck was going to be washed away in the summer rains. The store had been cleaned and closed for the better part of an hour already, the lights were dimmed, all the doors locked and the windows closed just in case. Genji was just finishing up cleaning the produce case when Jesse was grabbing his keys and umbrella, “C’mon kid, or else you’ll be sleepin’ in the freezer section tonight.” He calls from the front of the store. It wasn’t even seconds later that Genji bounded towards him, backpack strapped to him and bouncing along. “That’s illegal.” Genji steps past Jesse, standing under the awning of the store as Jesse finished fiddling with the keys.

  
“I’ll just tell the cops I didn’t know you were in there, sprout.” He ignored the audible snort coming from Genji , one he was sure was accompanied with an eye-roll. “Sure they’ll believe an old man like you-” Genji pauses as a familiar black car turns onto the tiny street in front of the store.

“Speaking of old, here is Brother.” Jesse finished locking up the front doors before he turns around to face the car which he assumed was being driven by Genji’s brother.

He spoke from behind a cigarette, “How old is he?” He fishes in his pocket, finding the sleek silver of his old lighter quickly and flipping it open to light his cigarette.

  
“Thirty seven.” Genji says without missing a beat, glancing from the corner of his eye towards Jesse, who seemed to be taking a pensive drag of his cigarette while watching the car come to a park. “His name is Hanzo .” The rain had begun to get heavy once again, clouding whatever view the two may have had of the driver. All Jesse was able to make out was a mess of colors that he assumed to be the older brother. Another long drag from his cigarette brought forth that familiar warmth to the back of his throat, filling his lungs with sand and prickling at his nose until he released the smoke slowly, dissipating it into the rain.

  
The smoke rose, twisting around the water droplets in an unseen dance as the car door opened. Jesse wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the second long drag of his cigarette or his imagination, but for a brief second he imagined that it was the same breathtaking man from the shop earlier stepping out of the car. He hoped it was the rain that was clouding his vision, but the rain was not acting as a good omen for him in such a moment. The man stepped forward, not seeming to care that his white dress shirt was gradually becoming more translucent with every passing second in which he remained under the shower of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a sudden intake of breath and the clouds were suddenly in Jesse’s lungs. In his eyes was the lightning, flashing bright with an electric-interest that kept him staring. The storm was approaching, leaving Jesse blind, dumb and deaf in his presence.

  
“Genji-” The thunderous japanese rolled off of his tongue, words cut by the rain droplets that seemed to now be falling with more force. Jesse was entranced, watching the rain slide down silky black locks, creating a path down white fabric and tracing the colored lines that peaked through. Words flew between the two men, thrown like daggers with a hint of annoyance and a sprinkle of something Jesse couldn’t quite put his finger on, “-Brother you are ridiculous.” Genji sighed, running a hand through his fluorescent green locks and tugging ever so slightly while his eyes settle on the rain soaked figure before them.

  
“Jesse, this is Hanzo. My elder brother.” He finally mumbles just as Jesse found it in himself to blink for what felt like the first time in ten years.

“We met.”

Another long draw from the cigarette and a sigh of smoke made Jesse realize for the first time that his fingers tingled where he was balancing the cigarette. “...so your brother is the tea fella’ from earlier.” One final drag and the crushing of the cigarette was not enough that time to extinguish the curiosity that burned inside of him, bringing his blood to a boil and his full attention.

“Aniki I told you I would be fine-” Although the complaints of the young Genji were silenced by a swift rise of Hanzo’s hand. It was an action so sudden that Jesse found himself tensing, reaching for a pistol that no longer remained steadfast on his belt. Perhaps he was unnecessarily jumpy around Reiji, but experience taught him well that the prettiest flowers spit the most poison.

  
“Let us go, Genji . We will continue this discussion in private.” His curt tone gave no room for argument and frankly, Jesse could have listened to that thunderous voice for days.

Although, Genji was far more reluctant to listen to the threatening tone of voice than Jesse was. Frankly he had never seen the teen scramble so quickly. No prior incentive had ever made Genji bolt as quickly to the car with a sigh and a wave back towards the store. Not even a second passed before Hanzo too had made his way back towards the car, opening his door and sliding in without another word. Before Jesse knew it, the car had disappeared past the curtain of heavy rains.

In their wake, they left a dazed and confused Jesse, one who was stumbling to process what he had witnessed, let alone what he had been feeling. No longer did the country music bring him warmth as he drove home. The burn of a cigarette, then a second, followed by a glass of whiskey and some beer weren’t enough for Jesse to forget the burning in his veins. The sensation of warmth while in his presence was much greater than a bottle of Jack could ever bring.


	2. Kaminari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around! It's greatly appreciated.

 

The room was a storm of colors, light and sound rushing forth in a thunderous culmination of sensations. The ceiling was a cacophony of lights, brilliant and luminescent lines cutting across the smoky air, slicing through the darkness and illuminating just enough to discern where he was to go. His leather clad feet lead him towards the bar, attracted like a firefly to the glowing bottles of Hennessy and Jack that he knew to call his friends despite only legally being so for a year. The deep bass of the music roared above his head, drowning out his voice as he attempted to order a drink, or two. One shot to calm the mind, two shots to calm the soul. It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth shot in which the infamous Deadshot was able to forget his crimes of the day. If only for a second, he was able to overlook the blood that stained his hands under club lights. It was sticky, heavy with the weight of his sin. No matter how much he scrubbed, cramped in a dingy club bathroom, the neon lights admitted what he himself could not come to terms with. No matter how many times  _ El Jefe  _ said it was the right thing to do, his conscious said twenty more times what he knew to be true. Innocent blood had run down his fingers, dripped off the barrel of La Rectitud and landed upon the dusty Nevada road. Deadshot scrubbed until his hands were raw and bleeding. Soap burned against his skin and all the while he couldn’t help but think that he deserved much worse. Another three shots allowed for him to forget the pain of his hands. Two additional shots were encouragement enough to attempt wiping his hands clean of sin between the legs of a bar patron. The entire situation was a fog of rapid action, all of which blurred together and stuck out all at the same time. He could recall the feeling of the man’s hands on his thighs, but not when their lips locked. Whispered directions, gentle touches, quick bites were more than enough to coax Deadeye into the back alley behind the club. The darkness would have been suffocating hadn't it been for the light in the man’s eyes. Although he swore they were green under the light of the club, he wasn’t going to complain about the pretty almond eyes staring back at him. 

The air was hot and heavy around them, encircling them in a gust of passion and consuming Deadeye's every thought. Their clothing fell off, layer by layer in that poorly lit alleyway. Cars rushed by, horns blaring, club music thumping, blood pumping in his ears as calloused hands entangled in velvet, ebony locks. His hair was ink between tanned fingers, soot against branches and burning Deadeye from the inside out. His every touch, every puff of breath against bare caramel skin, every gentle finger brush was another jolt of electricity in his muscles. Fire in his veins burned, scorching his cheeks, leaving behind remnants in every bruise that popped up with those passionate kisses against his skin. The heat between them was suffocating, leaving Deadshot breathless as their bodies entangled against that back alley wall. The only sensation of relief was in a brief moment when the man he clung to, broke their scorching embrace. Perhaps it was the rich light pouring from the club door as it was opened briefly, or a freak strike of lightning that caused the radiance of the man’s true features to be revealed. That chiseled jawline, inky black hair framing sharp cheekbones, almond eyes set in silky pale skin, a short black beard peppered with silver and accompanying facial hair that framed swollen rosy red lips, all of which were accompanied by the distinct smell of Jasmine tea. 

A sharp crack of thunder rang throughout the house, reverberating against the wooden floor that had supported Jesse’s lumbering body as he had slept, sprawled between the couch and the wooden floor of his living room. The worn plaid couch was indented under Jesse’s body weight, creGenjing with every step of the additional four pound chihuahua that seemed to know exactly where to step in order to wake him up more efficiently. A paw on his abdomen, squishing into the soft layer of fat he had accumulated over the years. Another paw on his chest with small nails that dug into his chest, tickling scarred skin as Gordito waded his way up his father and began to sniff. A low groan escaped Jesse’s lips, alerting the little tan bean enough to cause him to bark, a high pitched yip that immediately caused a headache to sprout in the front of Jesse’s head. The barking continued, even as Jesse pulled himself up and attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes, another vain attempt to ignore the half empty bottle of Jack that had been his companion the evening before. 

Gordito barked, yipping at Jesse from his side as an alert as if Jesse wasn’t feeling nearly the same way,  _ I’m hungry old man.  _ The reminders continued, banging against his eardrums and forcing him to take that wobbly first attempt of walking with a hangover. An action that was as graceful as a foal attempting to walk for the first time, Jesse relearned his feet as he stumbled to the kitchen in order to get the morning started. The clock on the far wall closest to the fridge blared in bright red LED lights, three twenty-seven in the morning. 

He would describe it as the time of day that was before the ass-crack of dawn, the time when only dead men were roaming the streets still. “Ain’t you lucky I haven’t put you out yet, huh?” He mumbles to Gordito as he watches the fat little chihuahua scarf down his foot in mouthfuls, eating with satisfied grunts and the occasional cough. Yet when that clap of thunder rolled around again, Gordito was barking as loud and as much as his little body could manage, barking so much that he shook with rage at the unseen foe in the sky. “Hey, cut the shit lil’ bean.” The unkempt bandito called from in front of his dying coffee maker, sputtering out some brown sludge that was a sad excuse for a caffeinated fix. 

Although his words of discouragement went heeded, there was no foreseeable end to the yipping, nor the thunder that continued to roar overhead. Another deep exhale smelling of stale cigarettes and sour liquor reminded Jesse to begin the daily grind, showering, finding another dark maroon button down and changing from the jeans he had been dawning since his escapades the night before. 

Nothing that morning seemed to sit right. The coffee was too solid, the taste of liquor from the night prior still too sour, the cigarettes still too prevalent on his breath, his beard too unkempt, his hair too long, his eyes too sunken, his soul too tired. Perhaps it was his dream the night prior that kept him staring in the mirror a little too long, gazing back at a scarred face and chest that held so many instances like his dream as proof that they really happened; that his entire life was not in fact a lie. The minutes spent looking in the mirror, ate away at an hour until finally he could look at his disgruntled appearance no longer. With the speed of a jackal, he dressed and continued on with the daily grind. 

Yet again, the pouring rain beat down upon his leather hat, dripping from his hair and clothing as he drove. It tickled his neck, sending shivers down his spine that settled into his back and shook him to the core. The country music was not warm that particular morning, rather it was dreary, sad, like the day that had surrounded him. The music was lifeless, dead sound wafting around him and encircling him as the truck came to a halt outside of El Mercadito. Rather than being met with the usual silence and the promise of a peaceful cigarette under the symphony of the rain, Jesse was greeted by a sleek black car. The cut of the engine seemed to be enough of a warning of his presence. Jesse hadn’t even a foot on the ground before he was being charged at by Genji, neon-green locks bounding in the whipping wind and sticking to his forehead like ivy. The kid had no damn care for the fact that his black button down was getting soaked, nor for the fact that had it not been for Jesse’s truck behind them, they both would have become part of a new mud-pie. 

“Old man-” He chimed as Jesse closed the truck door behind him, stepping forward to close the space between them. 

“Jesse.” He interrupts, digging in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes as he walks and Genji takes his place walking beside him. 

“Whatever. Old man Jesse-”

“Kid I swear’ta God-” He mumbles, cigarette between his lips and the familiar click of his boots against the wooden panels below El Mercadito’s awning. 

“Fine-” Genji sighed, rolling his eyes and running a hand through the ivy atop his head to calm the vines back away from his eyes. “ _ Jesse _ , big brother would like to talk with you.” 

Now, that wasn’t a statement Jesse had expected to hear, ever. Their more than intriguing interaction the last time they had met, left more than a bad taste in his mouth. Although to be fair, he had absolutely no inkling as to what the pretty boy was pissed off about, the thought of talking to him again was compelling. If not for the aesthetic benefit of staring at those pretty almond eyes for just a moment longer, then to see what was shoved up his ass. “Fine.” He mumbles, lips hidden behind the cigarette as his free hand grasps the silver lighter he had been searching for in the recesses of his pocket. 

“I was hoping you would say yes, old man!” Genji cheers, a bright smile revealing pearly white teeth and the grin of a teen who swore he knew it all. Of course, the cocky expression of the carrot top kid was more than enough to earn a grumble from Jesse despite how the cigarette calmed his frayed nerves. 

“Listen ‘ere Genji, I dunno’ what ya’ll plannin’. But if ya’ pullin’ some shit, I’ma be madder than a wild-”

His empty threats were interrupted by the click of another set of feet behind him, a sudden resounding creak as the old wood below them groaned below the additional weight, “Nothing has been planned.” The cool voice swept over him, easing the burn of nicotine that attacked the back of his throat with a sudden inhale. His voice was swift, clear and crisp but suddenly booming in Jesse’s ears. He hadn’t quite found his tongue before Hanzo spoke again, “Genjio, ignore all distractions. Get to work.” Followed by another sentence in harsh Japanese that send the boy bounding off with a slight nod and a chuckle. 

Jesse wasn’t sure when the tumble-weed kid got his buttery fingers on his shop keys, but before he had the chance to ask, his attention was pulled away. The sight of Hanzo under the Mercadito awning was simultaneously the most expected sight, yet the most alluring. Perhaps more so that his have-conscious, Jack-induced stupors that he often found himself in. His button down shirt and business casual attire had been traded in for something more casual. Form fitting jeans and a leather jacket over a dark shirt. Inky black hair had been tied back with a silver ribbon, letting it stick up back behind his head like the cacti Jesse grew up around. Several strands of black framed his contoured face and similarly dark facial hair. The ink stuck to his skin, staining his pale white cheek with the reality that they were standing just outside of the wrath of the storm itself. 

“Well-” The rhythm of the rain against the awning provided a soft soundtrack to listen to as Jesse’s tongue struggled to catch up with his mind. “-based on ya’ reaction yesterday, I reckon’ you didn’t care much for a fella’ like me.” 

“I did not say that.” 

“Ya didn’t have’ta.” In one fell motion, he removed his leather hat and ran a hand through his damp locks, untangling them as his eyes fell upon the man who was shedding his second leather skin. As much as Jesse did not wish to marvel over his physique, nor how his muscles rippled below his clothing, he couldn’t help but stare at the scarred ink on Hanzo’s arm, covering everything from his wrist to where it was cut off by the shirt cuff. Intricately woven designs interlaced with the beauty of his muscular arm, blending with the dark colors of the storm. 

“I apologize for my behavior yesterday, Mr. McCree.” 

He forcibly ripped his eyes from the intricate ink, instead preferring to turn around and make his way into El Mercadito. “Don’tya start with that. That was my pops. It’s just Jesse, Darlin’.” With one last drawl, the decaying cigarette was tossed aside, into a nearby puddle where it burned and fizzed to death as he himself stepped into his beloved Mercadito, being greeted by the complains of the floorboards and the smell of worn and weathered shelves. His boots brought him behind the counter, leading him past the guarded counter to where his normal chair sat, indented with years of his pondering. Yet Hanzo remained on the opposite side of the counter, leather jacket slung over his arm and ignoring the fact that he could see Genji’s green hair peeking out from several aisles over. 

“Jesse.” The name was foreign on his tongue, tasting slightly of rain and cigarettes that he had come quickly to associate with the rogue cowboy, a strange man indeed. “...and yer’ Hanzo.” Jesse murmurs with a nod, watching as the man before him seemed to consider the statement a moment longer than necessary, although time seemed to drift on longer when he was in the presence of such beauty. 

“Yes.” Hanzo nodded, curt and simple in his answers. 

“Well-” He paused a moment, raising an eyebrow just a fraction, “-if yer’ so sorry, then go ahead an’ tell me somethin’ interestin’.” The tuft of green hair several aisles over disappeared once more, accompanied by the soft slap of Genji’s shoes against the tile floor of the produce section. 

The request was odd, of course, but it was interesting nonetheless. “Such as?” Hanzo allowed for the quirk of an eyebrow to show his piqued curiosity in the subject. Half of him expected some sort of prying as to where he was, what ink had tainted his skin and had scarred his heart, molding him into the man he had become. Although the slight shrug of Jesse’s shoulders was everything but disappointing, “Whatever ya’ wanna’ tell me, darlin’. Just somethin’ interestin’.” 

It was a simple action, merely an act of friendship and camaraderie that could be expected of any gentleman. But as to why Hanzo was surprised that Jesse pulled out another chair from behind the counter, he could not answer. The action of pure consideration was done without a grimace, without a word as to how it was an inconvenience, not even a glance of contempt was cast his way. All that was shown by the strange cow-man was kindness, an odd kindness that Hanzo did not expect of a man around his own age. Perhaps that was why he found himself sitting down beside the rugged cowboy, tGenjing a seat slowly and glancing out over the shelves of El Mercadito, listening to the haunted rustles and the occasional hum in the distance from Genji. 

“I have travelled across the world for work.” He says bluntly, letting the words drift between them as they both stare ahead into nothingness. As the silence drifted on, the seeds of worry flourished in the back of Hanzo’s mind, “..is that not interesting enough for you, cowboy?” Hanzo inquires, sparing a glance from the corner of his eye to watch the expression of the man beside him. Who, oddly enough, had a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is something funny? Am I amusing to you?” He asks with a huff, watching as Jesse chuckles and shakes his head, “‘Nah darlin’. I jus’ figured I’d get some kinda’ answer like that. I reckon’ it’d be interestin’ to someone who ain’t me.”

“Tell me then, what do you find interesting?”

There was a long pause.

“Whattya’ prefer, tea or coffee?” 

The silence lingered between them for several long seconds. There was no mistGenjing the look of sincere surprise on Hanzo’s face. 

“Tea, Jasmine.”

“Alrighty, ya’ gimme a minute and I’ll get ya’ a cup brewin’ an’ we can talk.”

An indistinguishable amount of time passed in which Hanzo was left to guard the desolate desk, watching the occasional lime green tuft of hair peek from around an aisle and immediately go back upon being caught in the act of sneGenjing. Three claps of thunder had gone by, four different waves of hard rain, and Hanzo had viewed at least three different leaks in the ceiling by the time Jesse returned with two mugs, one smelling more strongly than the other. “Here ya’ are-” Jesse holds out the less chipped of the two mugs, allowing Hanzo to take it and sniff at the tea hesitantly, all the while watching the man sip at his drink with a content sigh. 

“..I can’t do the plant water. Jus’ ain’t strong enough.” He mumbles between sloppy gulps of coffee and contented sighs at how the cup of death burnt his tongue and soothed the ache in the back of his throat that was the last surviving remnant of the night before. 

“Why are you doing this.” Hanzo demands in a low voice, looking forward once again as his hands lower the steaming cup of Jasmine tea. As delicious as it smelled, he still held reservations as to how much this stranger could be trusted. Years of life experience had taught him to never trust a seemingly kind man. 

“Beats me.” Another sip of liquid courage and caffeine burned his tongue, warming his insides and seemingly beginning the process of thawing out his frost burnt heart that ached every so often when he would stare just a bit too long at the man beside him. “...It’s hard’ta find nice things in the world, things that ain’t broken already or ruined.” One more sip was enough to loosen up his lips, “I jus’ figured it’d be worth a shot’ta give ya’ somethin’ nice.”

The thunder above them rolled in waves, crashing over El Mercadito and drowning out the drumming of Hanzo’s chest and Genji’s work. For a long while they sat in silence, just resting in the presence of absolute comfort and wordless understandings that hung in the air, pressing down upon them in an embrace of comfort. It was something nice, something Jesse wanted to cling onto even as Hanzo left and later, Genji left before closing time. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that he realized that it wasn’t just nice for him, as Hanzo and Genji were waiting once again for his presence upon arrival at Mercadito. Thus began the cumulus era. 


	3. Ame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello From South Korea! I hope you enjoy the new chapter, please feel free to let me know of any comments and suggestions. Do follow me on Tumblr for regular writing updates!

The clouds rolled overhead, sweeping across the sky as a mass of grey. The heavens opened up and the tears of the gods rained down upon the mountains, drenching the funeral goers as they passed through the temple gates. Cyan paint shadowed the tears, running down faded wood and disappearing into the stone underfoot. The storm rolled like waves, taking in the current the inky black coffin as it descended down the path, worn by centuries of saddened feet and stained by the tears of thousands, carried by the hands of friend and foe alike. The fire at the end of the path burned bright, igniting the sky and casting maroon and grey into the air, feeding the cries of the gods and fraudulent weeping of passersby. Thunder roared overhead, serving as the underlying beat of the funeral march that defined the moment in which the Shimada family patriarch would be laid to rest for all of eternity. Clothing clung to pale skin, charcoal black hair dripped, inky droplets tumbling down chiseled features and prepubescent chins as the drum beat matched the sounds emanating from their breaking hearts. At least, the breaking hearts of those that were not shrouded in worry. Black clouds loomed over the head of the Shimada heir. His unwavering gaze pierced the fraudulent wails, the treacherous cries of sadness reverberated in the confines of his mind; the masses mourned the death of a monster. 

Thunder cracked, flames licked at the remnants of the old order, ushering in the new era with force and flame. The whispers of the elders plagued his mind, the promise of a poisoned fate was written in stone, etched by bloodied hands of the devil himself with the name of the young Shimada Heiress, bolded. The young heiress clung to the robes of her elder brother, gripping the only promise of safety and love she had ever known. Perhaps it was atonement for the past, or the fact that the Shimada son had grown fond of the heiress during her six short years of life in which he swore that he would protect her, always. It was his duty, as her only living kin, to see to her safety and happiness, for the rest of her life. 

*********

 

That first day with Hanzo in El Mercadito was more awkward than tryna’ to kiss a lizard. Then again, based on how the man refused to speak- Jesse imagined that trying to smooch a serpent would be more fruitful. Jesse found himself sitting in silence for most of the day, letting the air between them marinate and watching as the occasional tuft of green hair peeked out from behind a shelf. The action was seemingly always accompanied with a snicker, before the sounds of stacking cans resumed. The former bandit tried his best to tend to his regulars with the silent statue of a man beside him. Ms. Hughes complained about some recent break ins at her rental place, talking about how she’s seen some shady people around the area. She didn’t fail to mention that Jesse should come and protect her young granddaughter from any burglars, who was apparently single, again. He chose to ignore the soft snort from the man beside him, although he definitely wanted to hear it again. Mr. Svec stopped by for a pack of cigs and complained about how they took his shoe-laces in rehab, or as he called it the place to ‘get m’ass back to drinkin’ some hard liqs with all them fruity drinks n’ shit. I came outta fag ‘cause of ‘em.’ Jesse merely laughed, nodding as he counted out the old man’s change and choosing to ignore the churning feeling in his gut. 

Even Mrs. Dillon stopped by for some more medicine for Peter. Even though Jesse had just seen her the day before, her belly had seemingly swollen to twice its size than the day prior. Frankly, he’d never seen anything more terrifying and unbelievable than when she gasped and exclaimed the baby was kicking. It reminded him of old alien movies, watching her skin extend and stretch from inward force- the mere sight of it made him wince. He didn’t say anything, neither did Hanzo. Although the latter of the two did hold open the door for her as she left El Mercadito. That was his opportunity to slip out without another word, leaving behind perturbed Jesse and a cackling Genji. The rest of the day passed like any other.

Jesse drank his weight in coffee, grumbled about rising store taxes and squabbled with Genji over whether Quesadillas or Chalupas were better. Midst their disagreements on how much cheese was justifiably too much, his mind wandered to what Hanzo may be doing. The entire thought process that followed was something that he didn’t want- he’d think of Hanzo and his activities, what the man was like outside of the confines of El Mercadito. He’d imagine Hanzo’s physique doing mundane tasks, cleaning, doing laundry, bathing- to which he would stop himself from thinking such lewd things while at work. At least, he’d damn near try for the better part of five minutes before the call of nicotine would drag him outside to indulge.

His time outside, free from a chattering teen, gave him time to reflect and think with a clear mind. At least, as clear as his mind could be with the rain coming down. At the very least, he hoped that the minty burn in the back of his throat and the rhythm of the rain would drown out thoughts he chanted that he didn’t want. He didn’t want to see how Hanzo’s hair was peppered with white, or what it looked like when it was hanging around his face-

One cig lead to another, the chanting in his mind got louder that he didn’t want to see Hanzo’s sculpted arms or chest. Those promises of chastity rang in his mind, rattling around with every time he leaned his head back against the siding of El Mercadito. After his third cigarette, he decided that his internal battles could wait until he had the solace of a bottle to help. Three dead cigarettes under the awning were his only evidence of internal strife, before he went back to work.

Although after the shop was closed, the regulars had stopped by and Genji had gone home, those thoughts caught up with Jesse once more. He wouldn’t go so far to call them fantasies, but a wild imagination -  _ Chiflados  _ his mother would call them. Los Chiflados would pervade his mind, taking over his every thought as the numbness of a bottle of Jack settled in. They started out innocent enough, the promise of mistaken touches or a flash of a smile. It made his heart beat a little faster, if he was being honest with himself. But frankly he wasn’t, he chalked his elevated heart rate up to the fact that he nearly slipped over Gordito in a drunken stupor. 

Poor lil’ bean watched as Jesse stumbled back to his bedroom, tossing off his clothing in a forgotten pile in the corner before diving into bed and torturing himself even more with thoughts that were far too inappropriate for public consumption. Jesse thanked the lord that dogs couldn’t speak and comment on how pathetic he was, pinin’ over another man. 

That next morning’s hangover wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. But the bitter taste of stale Jack was too much to bear, causing him to retch before breakfast. Jesse managed to clean himself up real’ nice before he went out, dark flannel shirt that got soaked as soon as he stepped outta’ the house. He figured it’d be worth it to spend some more time with his newfound companions, as weird as Genji was and mysterious as Hanzo seemed to be. 

He arrived at El Mercadito at six o’three on the dot, greeted by a sleek black car sittin’ in the parking lot like it was no-one’s business. ‘Course it ain’t none’a Jesse’s business to be lookin’ up and down for some sorta sign that the object of his crazy thoughts was in the car- but he did it anyways. Needless to say, he wasn’t disappointed to see Hanzo stepping out of the car, graceful as ever. On the other hand, Genji fell out- he supposed the both of them couldn’t have inherited such grace. 

From that day on, no one wanted to admit that they were beginning to get into a routine. Come rain or shine, the brothers would arrive at El Mercadito at six am sharp. From there, Jesse would make his daily quip as he fiddled with his keys and hoped that would be the day Hanzo stayed just a little bit longer than normal. 

It was always something along the lines of ‘My my, whatta’ sight for sore eyes’ or something equally as flirty. To which, Hanzo would always reply something snarky, quick like an arrow pointed right at Jesse’s heart. Every drop of blood shed, made the promise of their time together that much more exhilarating. Tryna’ talk to Hanzo was like tryna’ take a rattlesnake, never knew where he was gonna strike next. 

‘You have poor eyesight.’ Every day that quip would make Jesse smile all the more than the day before. 

On his lucky days, he would steal glances at Hanzo, watching that faint smile dust over those pale pink lips and ruffle peppered facial hair. Of course Hanzo didn’t think no one was lookin’, if he knew that Jesse was stealin’ glances at those precious smiles he would have ceased. Every additional smile only added to his addiction, the desire to see more driving him to make even more of a fool of himself than normal; stumblin’ over words and making the worst puns he could. All with good intentions, the man needed to smile more.

At least, that’s how Jesse justified it. 

After their first few weeks together, they had a concrete routine down. Hanzo would sit beside Jesse at the register, watching over Genji as the boy went about his business cleaning up the store. He would watch as Jesse struggled through the financial aspect of his job, only to push it away for another day with a mumbled ‘goddamn..’ Like clockwork, Hanzo would leave without so much as a goodbye at exactly noon. 

It wasn’t until the twenty third day that some explanation was given, a simple “I must see that you work is done.” The quick nod he left with wasn’t quite enough to give Jesse some solace in his solitude. He was left to listen to the ramblings of Genji as he spoke about this cute girl, Lena, who lived up the street from their apartment complex. 

As he listened to Genji drool over the young runner, Jesse was thrown back into his glory days. Whistling after young, beautiful women as he rode down dirt covered paths, rendezvous under desert skies caked with bronze dust clinging to lips and limbs alike. Back when his limbs were all his, his right hand warm to the touch with an underlying heartbeat that could thread through soft black locks that smelled of Jasmine-

“Whattya think?” It was always amusing to Jesse to hear Genji pick up his slang, combined with his own slight accented manner of speaking. At that moment however, Jesse was too busy to appreciate it as he was too busy trying to remember something other than his own fantasies.

“What.”

He snapped out of his, admittedly unrealistic, daydreams of the glory days. Only to realize he had been staring at Genji’s smug expression the entire time, a corner of his lips barely revealing a shit-eating grin that Jesse had used on him time and time again. 

“You were not listening.” Genji points out, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. 

“Was too.” Jesse scoffs, rolling his eyes and busying his hands with the motions of separating change. 

“Should I ask her out?” 

The rugged cowboy sighs, slipping off his worn and faded hat as a hand cards through his twisted locks. He had never liked those kinds of questions, made him realize he hadn’t ever properly asked out anyone in his thirty eight years of life. Self-reflection wasn’t his strong suit, nor was it something he wanted to do without liquor. 

“I ‘unno kid” Jesse pauses, nodding towards Genji, “-she like ya’?” 

As he carded his hands through his hair, it didn’t go unnoticed that he needed a haircut. His untamed mane was perhaps too rugged, for even his own standards. 

“I think so?” Genji shrugged from where he was sweeping in front of the front counter, his smug expression gone and his bright eyes now downcast to where he was collecting dust bunnies and trapping them in the clutches of the broom.  

“I don’t know if she likes guys like me-“ 

“Carrots?” Jesse interrupts, teasing with a smirk upon his lips.

“What did you say, old man?” 

“Ya’ heard me, carrot top.”

There was a moment of silence. Jesse didn’t look up from where he had gone back to sorting change in some vain attempt to hide a smile.

“Must we begin war like this, old man Jesse?” Genji inquire from where he had moved beside the fruit display, a fake pouting expression on his face by the time Jesse glanced up and laughed. 

“Ya’know I’m gonna win, kid.” 

The strawberry that was thrown in defiance, was the subject to the worst food fight in El Mercadito history. It smacked Jesse straight between the eyes, had it not been for the shit-eating grin on Genji’s lips, they probably would not have delved so in depth with one of their historic food fights. Countless fruit-lives were lost that day, many of them innocent and staining clothing that got caught in the crossfire.

They had food fights previously, but by the time both boys were done laughing and tossing various fruits and vegetables at each other, it warranted an extra shift of cleaning in the morning. It also warranted a raised eyebrow from Hanzo the following day when he saw the bloodied stains of strawberries and tomatoes slain from the night previous on the edge of the counter. In a vain attempt to create conversation, as well as divert the dangerous glare he was receiving from Hanzo for acting so immature, as he cleaned, Genji rambled.

 

“I think the theme of the day is mess!” Genji pipes up from the other side of the counter, opposite of where Jesse and Hanzo were sipping on their respective drinks. 

“What in’tha whole hell are’ya talkin’ ‘bout kid?” Jesse’s voice was muffled by his mug of coffee.

“You know how they have coffee of the day?”

“No.” Hanzo and Jesse say in unison, Genji sighs. 

“It is something to speak of--“ the boy says, his nose buried in the floorboards as he continues to scrub off the carcasses of their slain enemy and allied produce from the floor and counter side with a wire brush, “-we must speak of a messy story.” His voice was muffled behind the mask that covered his mouth, decorated with a cartoon cat mouth and whiskers that wiggled and twitched as he spoke.

“Speakin’ of mess, ya’ gotta clean the break room before the bean comes ‘round tomorra’. Get ta’ cleanin’ up ya’ chip crumbs. Lord almighty knows if he gets any fatter that vet’s gonna stick ‘is stethoscope up my ass.” Jesse grumbles from behind his third cup of ‘bean water’ as Hanzo called it. The more stoic of the brothers sat silently beside Jesse, teacup barely gracing his lips as the steam rose slowly, swirling around his nose. 

“Why me?” Genji groaned, letting his head fly forward dramatically and landing upon his forearm as he begins groaning about his cruel life and his terrible boss. As Genji continues his monologue, Jesse laughs into his coffee.

“‘Cause ya did it. Now git’” Jesse nods towards Genji with a wink and a hidden smile, “I’ll finish up after ya’ leave, it’ll gimme somethin’ ta do. Plus then we can order from ya favorite, place. On me.” He takes one more swig of coffee, letting the bitter liquid roll over his tongue and add some spark to his movements. While he stands, he begins to roll up the sleeves of his red and black plaid button down. 

Genji had already taken his opportunity to escape and with a skip to his step that Jesse only ever really saw when there was a bribe of food. As he knelt down to where the brush remained on the floor, surrounded by soap bubbles, both the floor and Jesse himself let out a groan. It seemed old age had worn them both down.

“Damn..” Jesse grumbles slipping off his hat and tossing it towards the counter before he focuses his eyes on the floor, “I reckon’ it’s been some time since I had to clean up shit like this.” He begins to rub the brush back and forth, creating a nice lather to the rhythm of the bristles. 

“Heh-“ Jesse chuckles after a minute or so, “-this one time, I was wrapped up with some real bad fellas.” He reaches for the bucket nearby, “...an’ I remember I came home one day to see my momma’.” Water sloshed from the bucket onto the floor.

“Word ‘round town had gotten to my front porch.” Jesse laughs as he uses a free hand to scratch his cheek, “-once she caught wind I was runnin’ with the wrong crowd. She whipped me real good and sent me to clean the entire floor,” He glances to where the top of Hanzo’s head could be seen over the top of the counter. 

“I scrubbed, all night ‘fore she walked me to my buddies’ front door and made me say I wouldn’t be ‘round there no more.” The rugged man continues to scrub, his almond eyes now watching the water ripple with strong and practiced scrubbing notions. 

“Damn was she heated-” He mumbles to himself, thinking out loud as he continues to scrub from the war that had gone on the night previous. 

“She was a good woman, my momma.” 

There was a pause.  

“-Came straight from Mexico when pregnant with me. Said my daddy wan’t the kinda man she wanted me ‘round. Some kinda’ bandido in the Sonoran desert. Didn't mention ‘im much, just a few scraps of some stuff ‘fore I was out the door.” With a dip of the brush in a nearby bucket, Jesse continues to scrub, the sound of scraping bristles against wood acting as the only sound that calmed the silence. 

“What happened to her?” The voice behind the counter chimes in.It was rare to see that Hanzo held interest in something besides staring at his cup of tea and chiding Genji. 

“My momma?” Jesse hearts a soft grunt in confirmation, he didn’t want to have to tell what wasn’t necessary.

“Accident, few years back.”

He could still see her laying for the last time, flowers lining her beautiful peppered hair- light flowers against dark hair and bronzed skin. How he missed her some days, missed her guiding hand and her ability to see right through him. Some days, he wondered what his life would have been like, had she been alive to see him to that point. 

“I am sorry.” Hanzo interrupted Jesse’s nostalgic path of pain, cutting off the inevitable flow of emotions that would lead Jesse straight to the bottle when he got home. 

“‘S fine, It’s been a long time since then.”

It’s been a long time since he shot that son of a bitch straight between the eyes. That was the only part of his mother’s death that wasn’t accidental. It’s been a long time since he buried his momma in her favorite spot in Mexico, laid to rest beside the mountains and under the fields of flowers she used to speak of when she told Jesse bedtime stories. It’s been a long time since he thought about her, about how she died, about how much she coulda changed his life. Maybe he coulda been married, had some kids with a pretty woman, settled down in a nice ranch and didn’t have to worry about ghosts following him everywhere-

“Our father despised messes.” The sentence was quick and Jesse got the feeling that Hanson regretted saying it shortly after. There was silence, a lingering uncertainty that hung in the air. 

. “Even as children, we were not allowed to make messes. Our mothers would see to it that Genji and I were cleaned properly and all quarters were to be cleaned to expectation.” Jesse says nothing, for several long seconds as he listens to that clear, cutting voice slice through the silence and stealing away his attention.

Hanzo sips at his tea, letting his eyes close as the warmth of the tea invaded his body and relaxed both his stomach and his mind. 

“Mothers?” Truly, Jesse was as curious as a fly to honey. 

“Hm?” Hanzo raises an eyebrow and catches the curious almond eyes that could be see peeking over the top of the counter as well as a cockeyed cowboy hat. 

“Our father had many wives.” He says simply, the corner of his lips barely twitching down into what was the making of a scowl. 

“Many wives, huh?” The rugged cowboy bends back over, eyes focusing on the water that now threatened to slip between the floorboards.

“Our father was a wealthy man, one who could afford to bend laws to his whim.” Hanzo takes another sip of tea, it gave him some time to think of what to say. 

“My mother had the honor of being first wife, Genji’s mother was the third wife.” Hanzo pauses for a moment, letting memories of cherry blossoms and autumn festivals with the wives float through his mind, “...they suffered a great deal under my father.”

“-must’a been hard for ya’. Livin’ like that.” Jesse mumbles.

“Indeed.”

The silence stretched on between them, connecting the men in a thin line of understanding. Even though Hanzo hadn’t said it, Jesse got the impression that he too had suffered some unlucky hands in life. After all, what he shared wasn’t exactly happy and cheery

As he finished up scrubbing and eventually took his spot beside the stoic man, neither of them said anything to break the thick layer of comfort and warmth that spanned between them, a thin understanding that they had both suffered some in life. At least they had something in common besides a general affection for the bean sprout running around the aisles. 

The comfort of knowing something a little bit more in depth about Hanzo, stayed with Jesse throughout the day. The warm ember of knowledge sat in his chest, making it so whenever he thought back to that moment- it’s flame barely licked at his heart. 

Even as he came home to dog shit on the kitchen floor and his empty bottle of tequila, the normal call of the bottle was replaced by that warmth. The urge to fill the void in his chest with the burn of liquor, was gone. Rather, he cooked himself a nice meal and concentrated on what it must have been like to grow up with several mothers- in a time and place that seemed so far away from the reality Jesse had at that same age. 

It was both exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time, not to be called to the bottle; exhilarating in the fact that he could save that twenty dollars he would have spent at a bar. In his exhilaration and clear mind, left plenty of room and ability to think about his own scars. 

At some point during his restless night, sometime between his scalding shower and Gordito settling on his chest like it was a damn dog bed- Jesse found himself thinking back about Hanzo. He thought of those almond eyes, that peppered beard, the wrinkles around his mouth that appeared as he sipped tea. He wondered- what did Hanzo look like when he laughed? Did his eyes crinkle at the corners, would those wrinkles around his mouth become crevices as his lips formed in a smile? Did his eyes light up like they did when he saw fresh-made tea? Was he as beautiful when he smiled, as he was at every other goddamn moment’a the day?

‘Twas a pleasant thought, one that lingered on as Jesse drifted to sleep. 

 

From that day forth, their routine was altered to adjust for the arrival of their smallest team-member. Hanzo and Genji would arrive at six am sharp, Gordito and Jesse at six-o’five. Genji would pick up Gordito and carry the little sausage throughout the store and no matter the time of day or what he was supposed to be doing. Jesse was sure if Genji knew how, he would clean with Gordito on one arm. 

Jesse and Hanzo would sit behind the counter and chat about general topics, the weather, the month, the fact that Gordito looked like he was having the time of his life being carried everywhere. The cowboy would grumble that the lack of exercise for the lil’ bean would make the vet really want to kill him, Hanzo would chuckle and retort with something along the lines of ‘Perhaps you both would benefit from more exercise.’ To which they would start their daily discussion about what time was too early to begin working out. For Jesse, it was any time before noon, Hanzo began his workout regiment at five-am. Crazy Bastard.

Genji would give the word of the day after their first cups of joe’ and leaf-water. It was a conversation starter that frequently resulted in another aspect of Hanzo and Genji’s life being revealed, usually something Jesse would have never imagined would happen to real people. 

The word of the day was eternity, ‘like Gordito being eternally fat’. 

Jesse talked about a legend his mother used to tell him from her hometown, about the gods of death that watched over mankind. Just as they had been for all of eternity.

“They were my only companions for’a long while.” Jesse drawls, flipping his lighter top open and closed in a steady rhythm as he spoke, “‘m pretty sure we were on’a first name basis when I was a wilin’ kid.” 

Hanzo didn’t question it too much as to why a convenience store clerk would have several brushes with death. Jesse appreciated that. 

Hanzo talked for the better part of an hour about a Japanese legend. Talkin’ ‘bout a wealthy family who were supposedly guarded for all eternity by the spirits of their ancestors, every descendant of the family was supposedly branded with a sign of their ancestral protector when they came of age. 

“-...it is said that the clan has long since vanished.” Hanzo sets his empty mug on the counter in front of them, “They guided the lives of their kin, planning every moment until their death.” Hanzo huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest- barely revealing what Jesse had realized was the start of a tattoo by his wrist. 

Jesse didn’t want to admit that he was entranced watching Hanzo speak, those soft pink lips framed by locks of black hair that fell from his ponytail, but he was pretty damn caught up in the story. 

“So-..ya tellin’ me them ancestors, they watched their family die, ‘cause they planned it out?” Jesse whistles, sitting back in his chair, “‘s some sick shit.” 

“Precisely.” Hanzo agrees before their familiar, comfortable silence set in. 

Of course, Jesse’s curious nature got the better of him, “-What makes ‘em different from fate then?”

There were several seconds of lingering silence, based upon Jesse’s observations of the man beside him and his raised eyebrow, it was a question he too had yet to consider. 

“Fate.” Hanzo repeats, not particularly caring for the taste of the word on his tongue. It hung too heavy, too uncertain. 

“Yea, y’know-” Jesse waves his hand, around in a circular motion, fingers pointing upward towards the ceiling, “-some god or whatever, sittin’ ‘round, pullin’ the strings for us and watchin’ all the shit hit the fan..”

Hanzo, who had been sipping his tea, looks towards the rugged cowboy. It was rather amusing, seeing the normally level-headed Jesse so invested in a particular story. In many ways, he resembled a curious child, digging for the answers through a series of questions.

“Fate let’s you decide to a degree what the end result will be.” Steady hands place his cup of tea on the counter in front of them as almond eyes settle onto that rugged frame, “-the ancestors give them no other choice. If it is determined that you have not done your duty, they will take everything from you. Even if redemption is within grasp, the ancestors do not give second chances…” A frown prickles at the corners of his lips as he speaks. He was unaware if his rendition of the ancestors and their role made sense to the cowboy. Then again, Hanzo had always found it hard to explain customs to foreigners...

“Well that’s some shit.” Jesse mumbles, reaching into his back pocket and retrieving his worn  pack of cigarettes that he hits against his palm, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned ‘round here-” He pulls a cigarette out of the package, resting it between his lips as he moves to stand and reach for his lighter, “ ’s that ‘everybody deserves a second shot.” 

Hanzo said nothing as Jesse took his smoke break. The promise of a ‘second shot’, was a comfort that he was unaware he had been searching for. 

The word of the day that following day was sticky, like the sticky floors in the break room. 

Jesse told a story about how, as a child, he once tried to make a cake for his mother. To be fair, it was the perfect plan. The best goddamn’ plan his six year old mind could come up with. He got up early one mornin’, got all the good ingredients, and mixed it all up on the kitchen floor just for her and tried to cook his mess with a lil’ match he managed to scrap from a kitchen drawer. Needless to say, he woke up his momma that mornin’ with a sticky hand against her face and a smile the size of the moon. 

He got plenty of teasing from Genji ‘bout that. But what made it that much better, was he got a faint smile and a chuckle from Hanzo. It took two gulps of scorching coffee to keep himself from gaping openly and a burnt tongue to keep him from starin’ too much.

Hanzo talked about how as a child, Genji would dump tea on himself because he did not want to drink it. He spoke of how Genji would run around, covered in tea and evading all servants who dared try to catch him, looking for Hanzo so that he could stick himself to his older brother. Genji looked like he was sunburnt from bein’ so red by the end of the story, as was Jesse from laughing like a fool.

 

The word of the day was date, or as Genji said, “-Romantic date! Not today's date” in response to the raised eyebrows he had received from both Hanzo and Jesse at such a ridiculous presumed statement. 

“Romantic date, huh?” Jesse clicks his tongue, offering Genji a broad smirk that only got wider as the carrot top got redder.

“Y’know, I used’ta be quite the ladies man back in the day. If yer needin’ any help there, Genj-" He sips at his coffee, watching the teen try to wiggle out of the red embarrassment that had burrowed into his cheeks. 

“I'm not-"

“Ladies man?” Hanzo interrupts, casting a sidelong glance at the cowboy sipping his overly-caffeinated drink. 

“Hm.” Hanzo muses, bringing his mug up to his lips, allowing Genji a few seconds of distraction so to make his escape back into the fruits aisles.

“-Ya doubtin’ me now, Hanzo?” Jesse teases, sitting back with a grin. “I'll have y’know I had all the prettiest girls ‘round those days. They all wanted som’a lil’ Jesse.” He shoots Hanzo a wink infused with his best charming smile, although based on the eyebrow raise he received in return, his charm wasn't as useful as it used to be. 

“I am sure you think that.” He replies, focusing his eyes back on the coffee mug of tea in hand. 

“Naw’, now listen here-" Jesse places one elbow on the counter top, gesturing wildly with his right, metallic hand as he speaks. “- One time, I took this real pretty lady out. I had’ta be ‘bout thirteen. But whew-..” He sighs dramatically, taking off his hat and placing it over his chest as he glances off into the distance, “Miss Maria Gonzalez was the prettiest girl and ‘fore my momma came ‘round, I was sure I was gonna git’a kiss a’hers..”

Jesse didn't have to look at Hanzo to know that he had the man enraptured in another one of his stories, silently listening, or judging, as McCree speaks. 

“She was a bit of a superstitious woman, my momma-” He chuckles, running his thumb along the brim of his hat that sat in his hands, “-said Maria’s momma wasn't no good. Said ‘er momma hadn’t prayed recently or set out some dulces for the spirits, so she came an’ picked me up only to find me with a broken nose.” He pauses, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “...’cause I got in’a fight.”

“Are all of your outings so-” Hanzo paused, pursing his lips, “-like this?”

“My dates? Naw’, I hope not-” Jesse chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares off into the abyss of the store. Whether or not it was because his first date was a disaster, he found he couldn’t meet Hanzo’s piercing gaze. “They’re usually a bit better. Less blood an’ all-” There was a brief pause as McCree’s curiosity prickled on his skin like electricity. 

“What’a ‘bout you?” Jesse slips his hat back on and nods towards the stoic man who had just set down his mug of tea, “I'll bet yer’a ladies man, bringin’ in all the pretty ladies-”

At first, Hanzo looked as if he had been caught between a rock and a hard place. His lips twitched, one corner turning down in the making of a frown, whether that be from anger or embarrassment, Jesse was unable to tell. 

“No.” His rapid response was curt, whipping Jesse’s heart and subduing his curiosity, at least for the time being. That clipped tone was enough to tell him he shouldn’t pry at sore wounds.

“Hey-” The rugged cowboy turns to look at Hanzo, an odd warmth in his eyes that made the japanese man want to look away, that much more. It was not because the gesture was not appreciated. On the contrary, Hanzo felt he should not seek such emotions and expressions from a rugged man such as Jesse. It was improper. 

“Ain’t no shame in whatever ya’ frettin’ over. Shit happens.” A quick shrug of McCree’s shoulders and another smile from Jesse was all it took for Hanzo’s ruffled feathers to settle once more. Although the cowboy was comfortable in the silence that settled between them, it was quickly replaced with a quiet murmur, “...pursuing who I wished was not possible.” 

A stolen glance at Hanzo showed his stoic features set in a rigid form, his eyes trained straight forward and seeming to look back at time itself. 

“As the son of my family, it was destined that I would be married to a woman of my father’s choosing. To a woman of equal societal standing and wealth.” Hanzo pauses, “..a marriage for honor, not for myself.”

His tone was gruff, “I was betrothed for some time before my father’s death. To a business partners’ daughter, Yuki. Beautiful woman, kind, truly to be a fantastic wife..” 

Another pause, the only sound being that of Jesse’s aching chest creaking, or perhaps it was just the floorboards. 

“She remains in Japan.” 

That hurt a bit more than Jesse had expected, although he didn’t know why it hurt. In theory, he shouldn’t give a shit about Hanzo’s fiancee back in Japan. He shouldn’t be scowling because of a beautiful woman that would surely greet him with open arms and happiness, rather than breath that smelled of Jack in a run down apartment. 

It didn't matter that he had just been telling Hanzo be had been a ladies man, or that he had just been gloating of his own charisma. Hearing that Hanzo bad someone back home, struck him the wrong way.

“Lucky gal.” He mumbles, a bit more malice dripping into his tone than he intended.

“I suppose.” 

As much as Jesse wished to be happy for the man, disappointment was written across his features. For the rest of the day, his smiles were not as bright, his eyes did not dart towards Hanzo as often. He was more reserved in initiating physical contact with Hanzo, his motions were just as kind, but less warm. It started out just that day, until Hanzo left at his normal time. 

They were all subtle changes, those that did not go unnoticed as the days passed on however. 

The word of the day was appeal, like how the new oranges were appealing; or how Jesse found it appealing that Hanzo always tucked his hair behind his right ear first before the left. But he was not watching too closely. Jesse told himself he would leave such tasks to Hanzo's fiancee. 

It seemed that the most appealing of flowers, were the most painful to attain. Hanzo talked about how appealing the flowers in their hometown were during spring, how he and Genji would walk through the festivals, watching the petals rain down upon their town. 

The word of the day was sabotage, like how Jesse sabotaged himself by coming into work with a killer hangover and several hickies on his neck from the night previous with a random bar patron. 

It had been some time since he frequented the local bar and found a nice man to spend the night with. The guy had been nice enough. Ralph, or Ron or some shit. He had offered Jesse breakfast that morning. McCree wasn't sure how fast he ran out, but it startled them both. The man was hairy, too bulky, too loud, too much of everything and not enough like  _ him _ \- what made it worse, was the glare Jesse received from Hanzo the day afterwards, claiming that he looked unprofessional with those marks.

The word of the day was emotions- most likely because Genji had noticed that his brother and Jesse had not been conversing with more than two word statements for the better part of two weeks. 

As soon as it was said, Genji scampered to the back of the store, shouting that he had to clean something with Gordito. They all knew that neither Genji nor Gordito should be caught in their verbal battle, it was probably best that he scampered off so quickly for as soon as he was out of sight, Hanzo began, 

“How have I offended you?” 

His voice was rough, menacing and booming in the foot that separated them. The thunderous voice was laced with agitation, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and annoyance, his lips turned down with irritation. Despite how good Hanzo looked when he was laughing or barely smiling, this deadly beauty was something to behold. 

“I ‘unno what’ya mean darlin’” Jesse mumbles, sipping at his scalding hot coffee in the hopes that he could burn off his tongue and avoid the oncoming conversation. 

“I’m jus’ bein’ my normal self.” 

It had been the better half of a month, which Hanzo had been joining Genji at work and during all of that time, he had never seen Jesse caught in such a big lie. He had never noticed what a terrible liar the rugged cowboy was. 

“I have offended you in some way. Tell me.” 

Hanzo didn’t enjoy seeing Jesse in such a manner. His eyes did not hold the joy they once had, his eyes told the truth even though his lips spilled nothing but reserved lies. 

“I jus’ don’t wanna talk, alright?”

He barks, “So what if I don’t wanna’ talk to some rich guy who ran away from a wife waitin’ for ‘im at home? Is that my goddamn fault?” 

His words were bullets, striking all the healing scars and wounded memories that were struggling to die, 

“So what if I don’t wanna’ talk to ya’ rich ass who’s been livin’ off’a daddy’s money from Japan? I ain't gonna say nothin’, just in case ya goin’ home to ya honey. Wouldn't wanna keep ya’. So I don’t gotta’ say nothin’ t’ya if I-” 

Had Jesse paid more attention, perhaps he could have prevented the death of his coffee mug. He would have noticed the rage boiling over in Hanzo’s expression and seen the flash fire that was about to surge forward. 

Yet, he didn’t. He didn’t care to see  how his bullets were making Hanzo bleed, not before the man had smashed Jesse’s coffee mug against the counter- sending scalding coffee in every direction and dripping to the floor. 

Then again, Hanzo didn’t give Jesse the chance to see his impact for as soon as the cup had crashed to the counter, Hanzo was pinning Jesse’s head against the wooden countertop. His beard provided little cushion from the wood that bit into his cheek, the force with which Hanzo held down his head was surreal- another unexpected aspect of the mysterious man Jesse didn’t learn about until it was too late. 

“Speak not of what you do not know.” He heard Hanzo snap, soft but threatening as the sudden pressure on the back of his head was removed. Without further conflict or sound, Hanzo left the store in a flash, leaving behind the rain of coffee against the aged floorboards and a thunderous pounding in Jesse’s head. 

He knew that he had fucked up, said something he should not have. Or said everything that had been rattling in his mind since his unintentional rejection. 

However, the extent to which he had fucked up was not apparent until the next day when it was Genji, who showed up at six am on the dot, who did not engage in his normal cheery greeting. There was no talk of what the word of the day was, nor teasing, even the jokes at Jesse’s expense were scarce and reserved. The bullets aimed at Hanzo had seemingly deflected onto the younger of the brothers. Even his faked smiles held a hint of sadness, an emotion Jesse had never before seen on the young boy’s face prior to that day. 

It was as if Hanzo had died in the store. There was no talk of him. As the days dragged on with no telltale sign of the elder brother, Jesse’s questions regarding the stoic man were met with one word answers that fell flat before the words could even reach Jesse’s ears. The only evidence of his presence over the last month were the new coffee marks that stained the wood of the countertop, a scented reminder of Jesse’s failures as a man. He failed at keeping his emotions in check, controlling them so that no one would have to know of his shame. 

For a while, it seemed that Jesse would never have the opportunity to atone for his sins; he would never have the opportunity to close the wounds that he had opened. That is, until it started to rain once more. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for bearing with me! The next part will be released soon. I apologize if I forgot any instances where the former names came up in the story such as 'Aki, Reiji, or Pena'. Please do leave comments if you enjoy or have a suggestion!


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